Festive gift idea: just sock it to him

DESPITE the austerity and cost of living crisis, wives and partners will still ask the same question: “What do we get the old gyet for Christmas?” Why only the ladies you ask? Well folks, I’ve omitted the maleto-male Christmas pressie scenario, not out of sexism or misogyny, but out of the cold facts of male retail festive necessities; aye the question of what to buy the radgie gadgie in your life for Christmas gets easier to solve as they age…

Back in Christmases past – in the pre-internet, get-off-your-jacksie days – you had to brave the crowds and personally seek out those burgundy Farah slacks or the Police’s ‘Reggatta de Blanc’ LP in blue vinyl. Not anymore pets.

Your auld bloke’s Crimbow present now requires as much imagination as a cabinet reshuffle.

It’ll be socks and undies for the auld fella for eternity, or when the fuel price comes doon.

To meet this specialist market, the months up to Christmas see Amazon or eBay stocking brands of ‘dad socks’ and ‘uncle undies’ that are simply unavailable throughout the remainder of the year.

They range from dull brown or blue monstrosities made from a fabric so coarse, synthetic and cheap that they must be from surplus stocks once issued to National Servicemen, to lurid luminous and psychedelic Y-fronts that were last sported by some Seventies German porn star (It’s hot in here? Not with the price of heating Wolfgang!)

Even the bargain ‘poond’ shops are joining in with three-packs of socks for the princely sum of only one shiny pound coin!

Givowwer! Three pairs of socks for a poond? How aaaful can they possibly be?

The last time I heard that war cry was in the mid-Eighties, screamed by the dodgy radgies who stood outside the Northumberland Street entrance to Eldon Square.

Their merchandise was something to behold – white, allegedly cotton sports socks that were all you needed to complement your cherry-coloured stay-pressed chinos and any pair of pods, brogues or loafers.

Given that a pound bought a lot more 40 years ago than it does today, they were still notoriously naff.

Guaranteed to utilise the lowest possible quality materials and shoddiest workmanship , they had the life expectancy of the latest Tory PM or chancellor.

Aye, you would proudly pull on your Eldon Square entrance specials at the start of a neet oot, but by the time you’d reached the Canny Lad or Brahms and Liszt they’d began to unravel faster than Kwasi Kwarteng’s budget. It was like a Geordie Hansel and Gretel – you could actually track a mate’s progress from pub to pub simply by following the trail of unfolding white twine!

The only danger was that if too many people were wearing them on the same night the Bigg Market might end up looking like it had hosted a world record Cat’s Cradle attempt.

It was quite revolutionary – you started the night as a white-socked Wham Boy but ended it as a trendy bare-ankled lounge lizard.

And your mates never lost track of you, despite the lack of mobile technology.

So let’s get the old white sock sellers online out of retirement.

Maybe on Eeeeh– bay! Your radgie at home would love it!